Almost
by monamourbelair
Summary: "The confines of the parking garage were pressing on her, like the walls had mobility and decided to meet. She felt trapped and she had nowhere to run with her car behind her and his solid body just merely two feet in front of her." A short-story set in 3x18/3x19.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Wow, guys! Thank you for such amazing reviews you left on my first Major Crimes Fic! I know you wanted more for that Fic but I don't think I'm going to write anymore. I'm better at writing short stories than I am writing multi-chapter (I suck at those!). But here's another one and I sincerely hope you enjoy it! Arggh, I re-read my last fic and there were so many little mistakes - I'm so sorry for that! I hope this one is a bit more cleaned up!_

_Spoiler Warning for 3x17, and 3x18/3x19._

_Disclaimer: Not my toys, I promise I'll put them back!_

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><p><em>- # Major Crimes # -<em>

He loosened his tie as he followed behind her, the silence dragging behind them and choking him. They waited and entered the elevator, not one word was spoken between them. He desperately wanted to say something to her in an attempt to lighten up the air around them but he knew anything he'd say right now would have no effect. He could feel that she was lost in her thoughts and sadness painted its own portrait on her face. He opened the door to the parking garage for her, rendering a small smile from that was riddled with melancholy.

As she stepped out, a cold draft of wind greeted her and chills ran down her spine. With each step that she took closer to her car, she prayed and prayed that Andy didn't park beside her this morning. The silent tension and the quiet grinding of his jaw she heard in the elevator gave him away and she knew he wanted to speak, but dared not to. She was thankful he didn't. If he said something, she would break. She felt the pressure building up in her throat and she picked up the pace. She walked in front of him, the sound of her heels echoing behind her. She cursed silently as he continued to follow her. _You had to park there._

As soon as he noticed that she picked up the pace, he shook his head at himself for allowing it to come to this state – her running away from him. But he knew he had trapped her with his car parked perfectly parallel to hers. He walked slightly quicker though, fearing that she might just bid him a simple goodnight before driving away and closing herself off.

When they reached their cars, he stopped her before she could put her keys in her car door. He gently put his hand on her forearm, gingerly nudging her to turn around but she was tense and rigid. With a low, soft voice, he urged, "hey, Sharon." He was relieved when she did turn around to face him, and for a brief moment, he was glad that she looked him in the eyes. He saw the raw emotion through her moist, green eyes. He also saw her swallow the lump in her throat and he ached for her. All he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her, and for once, just protect her from everything even though she was perfectly capable of protecting herself. Once again, he urged, "Come on, talk to me."

With him looking at her with such intensity, she suddenly felt her knees buckle. She had to divert her eyes away from him and dared not to look at his face again, and good Lord she did not have enough strength to keep looking him in the eyes. She felt the pressure intensify behind her eyes and another lump forming in her throat, threatening to constrict her from inhaling any oxygen. It was incredibly hard to breathe and the air around her felt heavy, and thick with tension. The confines of the parking garage were pressing on her, like the walls had mobility and decided to meet. She felt trapped and she had nowhere to run with her car behind her and his solid body just merely three feet in front of her.

She told herself that she's going to bite her lip or look down at her shoes. She might even clench her fist, or just leave without an explanation. But she promised herself – she wasn't going to cry. Not one single drop will be allowed to escape the prison of her eyelids. She knows, she knows that when she starts, she might not be able to stop. She vowed that if he asks if she was okay, she'd say she was just fine. It was just going to take an act of God to keep the first tear from falling down.

It struck him that she was probably scared as hell, especially with what happened today with Stroh and it didn't help that she was probably exhausted. He saw her head bowed, and her lips firmly pressed together. Then he found that his feet were not complying with the commands of his brain as he saw them stepping forward. He gingerly approached her, giving her time to back away and room to breathe. The last thing he wanted to do was add to her burden of ache and pain. When he saw that she didn't move, he took another step forward and reached for her forearms and gently wrapped his rigid fingers around the soft fabric of her blazer. He said quietly, just barely above a whisper, "It's me."

He carefully tucked her red tresses behind her ear, smiling softly at the small pair of diamond earrings he gave her at the Christmas party in the murder room. They had a glimmer to them, a glimmer he missed in her eyes. He took another step closer to her but she still didn't look up at him. He sighed quietly with his brows furrowed to the center. It pained him to see her this way but he also felt lucky as hell to see her not running away or dismissing him. It meant she still trusted him, even if it was the smallest amount of trust. He brushed the side of her cheek with his thumb and murmured lowly, "Hey, it's just Andy".

She heard him the first time and she heard him the second time. His low, tenor voice echoed through her chest and created a mess of a symphony inside. Her stomach started to grind in knots, leaving her feeling slightly nauseous with the pain it was causing. With his hand still gently caressing the side of her cheek, she bit her tongue as she desperately tried to keep that promise she made to herself. She was not going to let him see a single tear fall from her face; he didn't need to see that. _He doesn't want your baggage. _

She still didn't look up at him as her head remained tilted away from him. He took in a breath of courage, which prompted his thumb and index finger to gently wrap around her soft chin. He tilted her head upwards and said, "look at me." He waited and he was thankful for the small pause in between where her eyes finally looked into his. They were wet, glossed over with a heavy coat of moisture. He heard her let out a small sob that shot right through him. He urged softly, "You don't have to be so brave all the time."

That was the end.

That was the end of her promise. She felt the warm saline tear slide down her right cheek and then her left cheek. The release was so powerful and in that moment, she felt so weak against the current of her tears. They kept rolling and she felt slightly light headed from them. Her lungs were scratching all over to try to get every ounce of oxygen from the air around her. Her knees felt weak and just as she was about to sink to cold cement floor, she felt him pull her against his solid body. His hand was clenched in her hair and the other was rubbing up and down her back. She hated revealing herself to him, it made her feel weak, helpless, and out of control. _Pathetic and useless._

He heard her purse drop to the floor along with her keys, the sound of clashing metal echoing in the air around them. It sang to him and rang in his ears. It sounded beautiful to him; it meant that she was latching on to him. He felt her hands wrap around him and clenching the back of his jacket, holding onto him in case she collapsed. She was trembling in his arms so he held her tighter. It was the most natural thing that occurred to him; he doesn't want to let her go. Tears were rolling down her face and he could feel it go through the thin cotton material of his white dress shirt.

He didn't care.

She cried and trembled until every single ounce of energy was burned in her system. She didn't want to move away, it felt so good to be wrapped up in his arms. For once, she felt _safe._ She mumbled against his shirt, "I just…" She started, but a pocket of air caught in the back of her throat and she started to choke. She inhaled a broken breath and she managed to mutter, "I…. just wish he doesn't have to deal with this anymore."

He swallowed hard; seeing his Captain fall apart at the seams in his arms was not something he had pictured. But he had to remind himself that the Captain was a human too, and it just so happens that this human was Sharon. It's just Sharon; the woman whom he takes to movies, dinner, and the Dodgers' game where it was so windy that her old baseball cap flew away and they had spent a good five minutes chasing it around. The same Sharon whom he took home to his family. The same Sharon he wishes he could call his but couldn't. He swallowed again, and this time he felt his voice threatening to break. He whispered, "I know."

She heard him swallow hard, and it weakens her to know that she's in the arms of someone who truly _cared._ She can't remember the last time someone had care for her because she would be the one doing all the _caring. _It was how she taught and how she was raised.

But this.

This was something different and she needed to cherish it. Like he said before, _it's just Andy. _Not the Lieutenant, not the subordinate. This was just the same Andy who took her to the movies, dinner, and the Dodgers' game where he _accidently_ grazed her hand. The same Andy who didn't want to tell his family about the true nature of their relationship. The same Andy; everything he is was everything that she wished Jack was. She murmed, "He doesn't deserve any of this. Stroh or Jack's drinking."

He knew that she mentioned Jack's infamous return last week but in that same Captain Raydor tone as if everything was fine. As if she knew all along. He sighed quietly, wanting to punch something as the rage tore through him. He didn't understand why this woman had to deal with so much. Sometimes he wanted to scream at everything and everyone upsets her. He just wanted to tell them to leave her the hell alone for _once_. But he's been in Jack's shoes before, and just because he's clean now, it doesn't mean he doesn't miss it. He couldn't lie to himself, he can't swear that he's never thought about the warm, bitter liquid sliding down his throat. However, unlike Jack, he's got his kids is his heart all the time; it enforces his sobriety. And now he's got someone else to think about as well.

He strokes her hair again, lost in feeling dissapointed in himself. He was amazed at how silky her hair felt as he threaded his fingers through the strands, and then it dawned on him that he would probably never feel it again. A rush of saddness flowed through him but he managed to whisper, "you don't deserve it either. He's going to be just fine, Sharon."

"You don't know that"

He let out a pent breath, closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. He whispered softly to her, "Yes I do." He continued to rub her back – even strokes up and down with the palm of his hand. She wasn't trembling as much anymore and he let out a breath of relief to know that she was starting to calm down but hasn't fully quite yet. He adds, "because you're his mother."

"I just want it to be over."

She wanted it all to be over. Stroh, Jack's drinking - the chaos of her life. She wanted to be done with Jack and she thought she was when he signed his named next to hers. But she knew she never would be and never will be done with him. He will always be there because they had once created a life together. A life where he was all that she was living for, and where his dreams were hers and her dreams were his, and in a pure gown of white, she vowed she wouldn't love anyone else. A life where they created children's laughter that trailed down the hall, tiny footsteps and pages of stilled memories wrapped in cellophane. And then as time went on – it was just a ring on her finger where the gold turned cold. It was a life that she could never be done with. But goddamn it, why can't he just leave her _alone_ and let her be free of him. And now Rusty has to see him like Ricky and Emily once saw him.

"It will be, Sharon. It will be"

She pulled away, she had to after he said that. She wanted to hold onto his words and engrave them in her head so she could tell herself that yes, indeed, it will be over soon. At least Stroh will be. She just hoped that her boy will be okay. _By all means._

He missed the warm contact from her as the cold air wrapped around him. He let out a soft, pent breath and so did she. There was a moment of silence in between them and they just looked at each other, the pause not awkward or uncomfortable at all but rather _intimate. _The closeness that he felt between them made him realize how much he needed this woman, how in the world he managed to go on without her, and how in hell would somebody ever leave her.

He leans against his car and crosses his ankles, fisting his hands in the pockets of his trousers. His head bows, his brows crinkle, and his lip purses. He's thinking. But he's lost without direction. He thinks about it. But he couldn't, he couldn't do reach out to her now for himself. But he wants to. _He needs to._ A rumble echoes through the garage as he clears his throat.

"You probably didn't eat yet, huh?"

"Well…"

He sees her head hang lowly and tilted to the side. Beneath her glasses, he could see the guilty expression on her face. He smiled which turned into a crooked grin. He chuckles softly. "So I'm going to take that as a 'no'" he says as he brushed away the remains of her tears and she blinked quickly with a small upward turn of her lips. She let out a barely audible giggle but he could see it in the slight tremble of her shoulders.

"Well why don't you call Rusty and tell him we'll pick him for dinner as well. The three of us?" He offered; he just wants to be with her, and he would like the kid to be there as well because he knows that the boy was all she could think about right now. Then he saw her lean against her car, with her hands in the pockets of her blazer and her ankles crossed in front of her. "Wanna try that new place down on Sunset? It has burgers, the kid likes burgers right?"

"Actually, he's with sleeping over at his Provenza's. Something about teaching him how to work the ... Play Station…" She began with hand doing small circles in the air and her brows furrowed slightly to the center, trying to articulate her thoughts. She pursed her lips but then admitted failure, "…. The Play Station Thing. So he could play with Patrice's grandkids."

He heard her softly sniffle and saw a small tear still on the side of her cheek. He reached out and gently brushed it away with his thumb, garnering a faint smile from her. His lips turned upward, gingerly smiling at the fact that he was so goddamn lucky to be standing with her and just her – Sharon, a woman that someone else stupidly threw away, a woman who carries the weight of the world on her shoulders and yet, gives herself up for others. He looks at her and asks, "Oh, so how about dinner then? Just me and you? Like Friday nights?"

She suddenly found interest in her shoes, looking at the gloss of her black heels with no particular intention at all. She mentally took in a breath of courage but even with her hands fisted in her pockets, they were slightly trembling. A wave of nerves washed through her body, leaving her knees feeling slightly weak again. She pressed her lips together and her head slightly tilted to the side.

He eyed her carefully. The dim light of the parking garage mixed with the slight draft coming in from the outside, he wondered why she looked so goddamn adorable right now. Was adorable the right word? Wonderful? Cute? Amazing? _Well how about 'beautiful'. _

"Uh… I…" She started but she spoke too soon as if her voice had a mind of its own. She looked up at the ceiling for fraction of a second and she blinked quickly, gathering her thoughts and tried to carefully phrase them.

"I…." All her life, she was a rather introverted person, sometimes locking herself with her thoughts and feelings. In her youth, and especially after Jack left, she enjoys drinking coffee alone, eating alone, running and walking alone. She finds something utterly satisfying in it. It gives her time to free her thoughts and let them run away, it gives her time to think and room to breathe. When your dreams are all shattered and the kids are all grown, you don't know what to do. You don't know where to run, or where to go. Because the world doesn't stop for your broken heart.

And once you've learned to be lonely and lonely is the only thing you know, it begins to feel like home and becomes your comfort zone. Once you've learned to be without someone, you settle for the silence of an empty bed. But sometimes when she sees those young couples in the coffee shop, a woman with her lover, or mothers with their small children, she realizes something. Although she likes being alone at times, she doesn't _fancy_ _being lonely._

"Sharon, what is it?" He asked with concern lacing through his words and brows creasing towards the center. He pushed off the car and stood up, taking a step towards her. He waited for her response but he received nothing. Panic sprang through him and caused his mind to race. His first instinct was that he had said something wrong. He knew that she had distanced herself from him lately after the whole misunderstanding; he still blames himself for it even though she said she had forgiven him. Did he ask for the return to normalcy too soon? Who was he kidding. Nothing was normal with them.

He was relieved that she relieved the compressed stress and pressure, being glad as hell he could be there for her. It was the least he could do for all she had done for him. But then he saw her look away for a brief moment and he reached out to gently take hold of her small wrist. For the first time ever, he realized how small and soft her wrists were in his large, rough hands. He pulled her slightly towards him and looked at her, asking, "You okay?"

Tonight she was feeling a little bit different. A small shock of confidence and courage ran through Sharon Raydor – the plain, simple woman with the raw heart and not Sharon Raydor the police captain. At that moment, in front of him was just a genuine woman standing in the empty mask of her power suit. And in that moment, she felt a little bit stronger, little bit braver and little bit more feminine. She has been unfair to him lately and she knew he tried so much for her. There was a distance between them these few weeks and she secretly wanted the discrete touches, those meaningful glances and those conveying smiles to come back. But she also found herself feeling utterly guilty that she shut him out like that; he had given and offered her so much while she didn't want to accept it.

She breathed in a little breath and held it in. She wasn't good at this; it's been a long time. She's always been a mother, a sister, a daughter, a friend, but God, it's been a long time since she felt like she was someone else's_._ She wasn't going to lie to herself, she missed that. She breathed in again, looked at him and she noticed that his eyes were the shade of peanut butter in this lighting. She swallowed first, then slowly let the words escape from her mouth, "well, according to Rusty I make a really good lasagna. I..." She bit her tongue, and she felt her hands slightly shiver. _Oh God, help me. _

A shudder ran through her body and her stomach tied itself into an anxious knot. Well, this is _different_. For the first time, in a long time, she felt _nervous_. In a barely audible whisper, she said, "I could make that for us, if you like."

He sensed the nerves on her and he mentally chuckled to himself. He found it semi-amusing that this woman forged of iron was standing in front of him with only the smallest smear of courage in the department of _dating. _He saw the colour return to her face and her cheeks slightly rosy from the cold night. The glimmer was slowly returning to her eyes and he knew when it fully returned, it would put those diamond earrings to shame. He took this small opportunity to play with her, although he'd feel guilty as hell if she reacted negatively. He hoped she wouldn't so he quipped, "I don't know."

He said it in such a serious tone without even the slightest grin on his face. When he saw her tense, eyes shooting wide open and backing away, he had to pull her back to him. He chuckled softly and let a goofy, crooked grin paint his face. His hands slide down from her wrist and he laced his fingers through her, marveled at how wonderful it felt for her small hand to fit in his. He squeezed them gently, whispering, "Because I also make a really great lasagna."

"But I would love to see if Rusty's right".

She was startled for a moment, fearing that he rejected her when she had taken all this courage and strength to welcome him. Her cheekbones rose and her eyes glistened slightly as she smiled at him. The warmth of his hand in hers fulfilled a craving she didn't know she had until now. She felt him pull her closer to him until she rested under his chin. She took in the moment to actually breathe – to breathe in the scent of him. It made her slightly light headed and she realized how good it felt to have his arms wrapped around her. It felt good to have something that the woman in her needed. _The warmth of a man._

His face was nuzzled in the tresses of her hair, inhaling the scent of her shampoo mixed with the subtle scent of her perfume. God, he could stay like this forever; with her small frame pressed against him and her hands wrapped around his middle. He said a silent prayer, thanking God that she allowed him to do this. He felt goddamn lucky and for the first time in the longest time, he felt unbelievably _happy. _She made him feel like he was _worth_ something. He let out a breath, a small sigh of contentment and relief.

She pulled her head back slightly and arched her neck upwards. She looked up at him and he looked down at her with such intensity that it made her knees quake.

She let her eyes close.

He let his head inch forward.

- # THE END # -

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><p><em>AN: Since the last Fic was so heavy, I ended this one on a good note! Yay! It's a little shorter but I hope you still enjoyed it!_

_Hope you all had a great time reading it. As always, I love feedback and I love reading your reviews. And, thank you, Ezgi for encouraging me to write!_

_**I want to thank: **__SharonFan1986, bwie66, ColeMax, leveragus, chattympc, Most Bossy Robin, leverageobssessedgrifter, deborahgar2009 and, Guest Reviewers for leaving such wonderful reviews on my last piece!_

_PS: All mistakes are mine, I didn't have a Beta _

_You guys are awesome,_

_- J _


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Wow, look… you guys convinced me to write another chapter with all your reviews. I must say that you guys are great negotiators and I succumb very easily! Anyway - just a small reminder that this story was written before the finale was aired. _

_Enjoy (:_

_Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing toys. I'll put them back, I promise!_

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><p>- # Major Crimes # -<p>

**Chapter 2**

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_Looked me straight in the eye_

_You turned the gas on high_

_Held the flame alight_

_You wonder why_

_I'm scared of fire _

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He wanted to. He wanted to so badly.

But there was a part of him that stopped himself, fearing that his prospective actions would scare her or cause her to run away. So the only thing he could do was to resort to something slightly safer. Instead of allowing his lips to come in soft contact with hers, he gently pressed a dry kiss to her forehead and he mistakenly breathed in the scent of her shampoo. The faded smell of floral lingered in his nose and fueled his temptation to kiss her. But his conscience didn't allow him and with that, he began to pull away from her.

She inaudibly swallowed down the tight pressure that was forming at the back of her throat. A part of her was thankful that he didn't kiss her but there was bigger part of her that felt a hint of disappointment churning inside. She couldn't silence the thoughts that were running through her head as she tried to find a reason for his retraction. A part of her put herself to blame and wondered if he had changed his mind about her and if he realized that she was simply _too much. _

She pulled back and let a sad smile etch her face as she peered up at him through her glasses. She didn't want to pull away but she had to and she instantly missed the warmth that she felt radiating through her body. She turned around to reach for her car door but he startled her by reaching for it first, pulling it open with one swift murmured a soft _thank-you_ before letting him close her door as well. She cleared her throat as she gripped on to the steering wheel. She peered up at him through her thick lashes and asked, "You know the way?" She caught the softness and sincerity in his eyes. At this very moment, they were so vulnerable, tender and filled with sincerity. It made her uneasy inside to be captivated by them and had to force herself to look away.

"I'll be right behind you", he threw in and he gave the hood of her car a quick tap before turning around. He rounded his car to the other side and slid into the driver's seat. His memory of the last twenty minutes were repeatedly playing in his head and he had to think hard before registering that it had _actually_ happened. He started the engine and listened to it come to life as he turned on the radio. He backed up, and followed her silver car. He smiled to himself and couldn't help but chuckle quietly as well.

Instead of turning left like he usually did, tonight he turned right.

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><p>It was a strange thing.<p>

A strange, uncomfortable, and uneasy thing.

The moment they had entered the elevator, he sensed a change in the atmosphere and felt tension rise in the air. He couldn't figure out why but it gnawed at him. There was an oddly familiar uneasy silence between them and he succumbed to a new interest in his leather shoes, tilting his head at the discovery at a new scoff at its tips. Through the corner of his eyes, he saw that her hands had found residence in the pockets of her blazer. It was telling sign for him that she felt uncomfortable and placing her hands in her pockets was a temporary finding of closure.

The elevator rang as it stopped on the eleventh floor. She held her keys tight in her hands, so tightly that her knuckles turned a fleshy shade of white. The closeness of him behind her caused her stomach to grind in tight knots and she swallowed hard. She inserted the key in the knob and before she turned, those five words boomed through her brain. She closed her eyes abruptly, desperately attempting push them away.

As she entered her condo, he saw her take off her jacket and he immediately reached out to say, "Here, let me."

"Thank you." She said quietly as she stopped her movements and allowed him to slide her jacket off her shoulders and down her arms. His closeness from behind sent her down a vortex and she couldn't find the ground. She somewhat regretted that small moment of courage back in the garage as she felt the shudder of angst ripple through her body. She was nervous and this newly found nervousness broke her usual collected structure. She felt her hand slightly shake and a nauseating grinding in her stomach. She couldn't quite understand why she was feeling this way but it scared her. The closeness she now felt to him scared her. The notion and possibility of _something more_ terrified her that she let out a barely audible whimper.

They headed towards the kitchen and it was just the two of them now. She couldn't remember the last time she was alone in her home with a man and he couldn't remember the last time he was invited into a woman's home alone. For two rather mature individuals, they felt like new fools at an old game. He clenched his jaw as he tried to embrace the unfamiliarity of his current surroundings. He had been in her home before but it had always been in the company of others and this newly found silence slipped a tension between them. He saw her approach the granite bar and her hand reached for a white envelope with Rusty's high school emblem on the right hand corner.

He approached her from behind and rounded the corner to stand beside her. With clasped hands, he leaned on the counter as he watched her open the white envelope and pulled a single piece of folded from inside. The motion of his eyes matched hers as they both examined the numbers aligned right in a straight column. For a moment he thought about diverting his eyes, thinking that he might have been prying but a part of him kept his eyes transfixed on the paper. Although he knew that it was none of his business, he felt a sense of closeness to the boy and felt that he held a tiny part of Rusty's world everywhere he went. A small, proud smile caressed his face as he said, "Looks like he did very well."

"I'm very proud", was her simple response as she held the paper in her hands. She had brought out his high school transcript a couple of days ago to discuss his secondary grades with him and helped him choose appropriate post-secondary classes. She had forgotten to put it away but she couldn't help but look at the piece of paper once again. It reminded her that he had so much potential ahead of him, in every aspect of life. They had also discussed a couple days ago what academic average he needed to maintain to renew his current scholarship for the following year and it had made her smile proudly that he was doing so well.

He looked up at her and he pressed his lips together in a thin line. So was this the look of a mother's pride in her son? His thoughts drifted off and the memories painfully stung him as his eyes stayed transfixed on the black script on the white paper. The words blurred slightly as he held the transcript in his hands. He suddenly felt ashamed as the guilt boiled inside of him. They were in middle school when the drinking had really intensified and when he had fully given into his temptation for alcohol. Nicole and Daniel had left their report cards stuck to the fridge door with tiny blue magnets and they had continued doing so until high-school where one day they had decided that _only mom cared anyway. _

He no longer knew about their accomplishments or when the next school play was or when the next soccer tournament was scheduled. He would only find out when he suddenly knocked something off the piano, usually a medal or a trophy he had never seen before. In truth, he did care and he desperately wanted to show it but it was hard to make a convincing case in the morning. Mornings were the worse – the shame came with the hangover and he would promise himself he would never drink again. But the days passed by where suddenly; he did not fear shame anymore. And now – now regret filled him. He regretted every morning when his kids went to the school and saw their father asleep on the couch in yesterday's clothes or not even home at all.

He clenched his jaw and the memories that flooded his mind as he slipped the transcript back in its respective envelope. He was pulled away from his thoughts when he heard her soft voice say, "I'm going to go change, alright?"

"Yeah, sure. No problem," he said as he watched her round the corner. He stopped her for just a moment to ask, "Uhm, what can I do in the meantime?"

"Okay, um…." Her voiced trailed off into a soft, vibrating hum as she slipped her hands into the pockets of her blazer again. She looked around the kitchen and mentally recalled the recipe and its instructions in her head. With his presence in her kitchen, she felt her knees slightly quake and she lost of focus of her thoughts. She had to recall the recipe several times in her head before she blurted, "Start the water for me?"

"Will do." He responded with a crooked smile and an affirmative nod before he began to fill a large pot with water and placing on the stovetop. In the corner of his eyes, he caught her uneasy and slightly jittery movements. He couldn't tell whether she was feeling uncomfortable, nervous, regret or a mixture of all the above. He simply couldn't put a finger on it but he also felt her unease slip into him as he began to have doubts about himself. The image of Rusty's transcript, crisp and white, fluttered into his mind and a pang of guilt swept over him.

She also sensed a slight unease with him as well and she couldn't help but blame herself for putting him in his state. She was always a great hostess for parties, and a great entertainer with a group of girl friends but she hadn't done _this_ in a long time. She rounded the kitchen island again and made her way towards the pantry in silence. She heard him sigh softly before saying, "Sharon, I could leave if…"

The last of her intentions were to make him feel unwelcome and without second thought she interrupted, "Oh, it looks like we only have canned sauce. Hope that's alright."

It was a horribly bad attempt at pretending to not hear him but she smiled softly as he heard his reply, "Perfectly fine." She placed the can on the counter and reached behind him to open the drawer as she murmured a soft _excuse me. _She grabbed the can opener and positioned it on top of the can until she felt a strong grip. Her wrist twisted in a clock-wise motion until the opener swivelled around the entire circumference. She felt a resistance between the can and the opener, and she groaned quietly in frustration.

"Need help?" He asked while reaching out his hand.

"I've got it," she said through gritted teeth as she gave it a single, hard pull. Suddenly she felt a cold splatter on her lip and a few on her cheek. She blinked a few times in rapid succession as an attempt to comprehend what just happened.

He couldn't help but let a low chuckle, laughing quietly at the sight of her mouth hanging slightly agape with her hands opened in the air. He saw her place the can opener gently on the counter and then proceeded to brush her out of her face. He took a ginger step forward, careful not to come to close but was surprised that she didn't tense. He quipped, "Looks like that thing got the best of you." He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before swiping a splash of sauce from her cheek, and from her lip. He chuckled softly again, and a small smile caressed his face.

"Thank you," she murmured before backing away from him. Her eyes diverted away from him, scanning around the kitchen for nothing in particular. She cleared her throat, and said, "I'm gonna go now."

"Sure," he threw in and watched her turn around.

She turned around and headed down the hall that was dimly lit with a single night-light meant for Rusty and his nightly bathroom trips. She opened the door to her bedroom and dropped her bag on the floor as she slipped out of her blazer and hung it back in her closet. Toeing out of her pencil skirts and undoing the buttons of her white blouse, she felt a small sense of immaturity for feeling this way. She was a woman well in her fifties with two full grown children who was on the verge of being a grandmother than she would like to admit and yet, she was in her bedroom with ridiculous, pathetic thoughts clouding her mind. Thoughts and gripping feelings of fear: fear of rejection mixed with the fear of reaching out. He had said to her before that he was _just Andy_ and in that moment, she made herself think that way as well. But now that she was the one who took a step further and acted on the moment of courage to ask him to come into her home, now he didn't seem like _just Andy_ anymore. For the first time in a long time, she was _afraid._ Afraid of losing _just Andy._

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><p>When she returned, she only caught the sight of him from the back. He had already got rid of his blazer as he saw it sit on one of her bar stools, his sleeves were rolled and his tie was loosened. She caught herself staring at the domesticity of the situation in front of her and she found herself wondering if this was what <em>mutuality, coexistence <em>felt like. She continued to watch him, a small smile started to caress her face until those five booming words echoed through her mind again. She remembered how those five words stung her while her blood electrified in her veins.

"Hope it's alright that I got started," she heard him say and her gaze quickly refocused. "Of course," she replied softly as she rounded the counter to grab her red apron.

He swivelled his head around for a small moment, just long enough to catch her tying the apron around her small waist. She was standing beside him, gathering things here and there. Andy Flynn never took it for granted to see Sharon Raydor in casual wear because the sight was simply astonishing. It revealed a different person in her and although he saw the elements of her vulnerability back in the garage, seeing her in a beige wool sweater and dark denim jeans revealed to him someone that the department never saw. Someone who was just as human as he was and as human as the people who lived next door. It was just Sharon, without the _Captain. _He smiled softly at her before asking, "So 45 minutes?"

She simply hummed a simply _mhmm_ as an affirmative sign while turning around and wringing out a towel to clean up the counter.

"Here, let me." He offered and slightly nudged her away from the counter and started to roll up his sleeves. He sensed her discomfort and thought that perhaps this was indeed a bad idea. Perhaps he should've left before this had even started. He didn't quite understand it: she had asked him to come in for dinner and now he could feel her tense, feeling imprisoned in her own home. Perhaps he was invading and perhaps he should leave now but a part of him couldn't bring himself to do so. He had come this far and he didn't want to give it up now. He approached her, touching her shoulder gently before asking delicately, "You okay?"

She couldn't bear to look up at him as she continued to wipe the counters. Pressure was building up behind her eyes and her brows furrowed to the center. Each breath she took was both a battle and a triumph as she gathered to courage to murmur, "I'm fine."

* * *

><p>They found their ways to her living room, each with a steaming cup of tea in hand. They sat opposite to each other on her sofa and a sliver of dangerous distance still lingered between them. She placed her mug down on a coaster on the coffee table and then reach behind her to grab a pillow. She picked at the invisible lint off the pillow as she placed it on her lap. She inhaled slowly, and exhaled even slower.<p>

"Andy, I think maybe we should discuss um…" her voice trailed off as her thoughts cut off her words. Her eyes were fixed on a small stain on her coffee table and immediately deciphered that it was the size and shape as the base of a wine glass. She didn't drink red though but she knew that Jack did. She wondered why she never noticed it before: that small, deep red, almost purple wine stain on her coffee table. A pain ignited deep in her gut as her mouth hung slightly agape. And then those five words suddenly vibrated in her ears, _who would come here sober? _

She swallowed hard but another pocket of solid air hitched in her throat. She looked up at him and felt the pressure build behind her eyelids as her eyes filled with moisture. She licked her lips and quickly looked around the room, desperately trying to find a way to escape. But she couldn't. She was trapped in her own home. At that moment, she realized that maybe Jack was right and it must take an insane man to want to be near her.

And suddenly, a rush of heat swept through her and she felt like Sharon Raydor at twenty-seven when he left for the first time. Maybe Jack was right when he said that he was the only man alive who would be able to deal with her and no other man with a right mind would be able to tolerate her. When he left her alone in that house, she could hear the rooms alter to a different pitch – the pitch of silence with nothing but furniture and an unborn baby girl. She vowed that she would raise her on her own but she forgave him from time to time again.

So maybe he was right when he hollered at her before slamming the door at twenty-nine, saying that she had made him this way – made him to turn to the bottle because it was sure as hell more comforting than she ever was and ever will be. And maybe at thirty he had the right to say he didn't love her anymore and those kids were the biggest mistake of his life as he slammed the door again. And maybe, just maybe, Jack had always been right, she was an impossible woman to deal with. All these years with him had caused her to use silence as armour – silence anesthetizes shame like no other.

She looked up through moisture-glazed eyes and the closeness of the man sitting in front of her shook her from within. She didn't want him to emotionally come any closer to her as she was afraid she would only end up disappointing him. And now she fears that she had let him come _too close._ Deep down, she knew that she should never listen to anything Jack ever said but there was this part of her that couldn't let go of his words. When you've loved someone and created a life with them, you always end up validating their most outrageous opinions. And this was no different – she internally validated his opinion, again. No sane man would want to be with her – that was her mantra and that was her truth.

She didn't know what to do and she felt every ounce of control slipping through her fingers. She did not understand her current emotions – she did not understand how she could feel so torn between tenderness and uneasiness she felt towards him. The two feelings grated at one another and when she thought she could push it aside, it comes back with collected momentum and gnaws at her harder. She knew – she knew that it was easy to walk away from something when she did not need it but when she did…

He saw in her eyes that she was imprisoned by her thoughts. Something was bothering her and this time, he knew that it didn't have anything to do with Stroh, the case, or Rusty. He was careful with his choice of words and he decided that perhaps this was the appropriate time to ask whether she was uncomfortable with him or if she was not ready for any of this. All he wanted from her was an explanation to let him know whether or not he should give her space. He inhaled a ragged breath and his brows furrowed to the middle. He looked up and only saw the side of her face, while catching small glimpses of her emotional eyes through the rims of her glasses. He carefully started, "Sharon, are you…" He started but was interrupted by the alarm of the oven and frowned at its impeccable timing.

She swallowed hard. She looked down at her hands that were resting in her lap and she noticed that she was trembling. Her lungs scratched for oxygen as she tried to bring her emotion riddled voice to an equilibrium. She blinked slowly and carefully; a desperate attempt to keep a tear from falling. She opened her mouth to speak and with a thick, raw voice she managed to whisper, "That's dinner."

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_A/N: Argh! So many unresolved issues, huh? I'm working on the last chapter but I honestly have no idea when it will be up because I write really slowly! I will try to get it posted ASAP! By the way, this chapter was inspired by the song, Straight for the Knife by Sia but I had an extremely hard time writing this chapter _

_I braved through it again without a Beta and I sincerely hope it wasn't torture for your eyes._

_Thank you for your continued support! Special thank you to: __**Liz18, Inlovewithlife87, ProfTweety, deborahgar2009, FlawlessRaydor, Debbora** (you got your mulit-fic wish, hun!),** Kimberly, Flagwoman, Sweetbutterfly11, heyidiots** (your username deserves a gold star!),** bwie66, Dietlinde, Phlanges1** (was this inspired by Phoebe in Friends!?), __and all the Guest reviews! _ _You guys are simply, utterly, wonderful._


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